


The Joke's On Him

by Merixcil



Series: Tumblr Fics [81]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Killing Joke (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, M/M, POV Second Person, TKJ retelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23983231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merixcil/pseuds/Merixcil
Summary: Batman says you're going to kill each other, but he's wrong wrong wrong
Relationships: Joker (DCU)/Bruce Wayne
Series: Tumblr Fics [81]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1759627
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	The Joke's On Him

Rain falls heavy in the autumn, and still he moves with unmistakable purpose. Like the water doesn’t weigh him down where it catches between the panels of his armour. Who does he think he’s kidding? Who in all of Gotham can find it in their heart not to laugh over this idiot?

You don’t have to be crazy to cross the threshold of Arkham Asylum, but boy oh boy does it help. Sooner or later he’s going to slip far enough that the rest of the city can see the cracks in his façade, then he’ll be sorry. Tonight, however, he comes through the guest entrance, accompanied by the police commissioner. The soles of his boots are so thick that the stupid little devil horns he wears atop his head scrape the doorway.

Don’t look up, don’t blink. One card on top of the other, same as it ever was. One always leads to the next fifty two, capped off with a joker card just for you. It’s better than a mirror.

“I’ve been thinking about you and me lately, about what’s going to happen in the end.” His voice is so dreamy when he’s sulking and you just know his eyes are like infinity pools. Blue, you think, or you imagine, unsure if you’ve ever seen them poke out from the shadows.

He’s a fool and an idiot and you could throw your life away laughing at that outfit and the gadgets and the hoards of screaming admirers. But mostly he’s just hilariously predictable in his moroseness. “We’re going to kill each other, aren’t we?”

You’ve never wanted to prove him wrong so badly in your life.

Or you would, if you were really in the room. Which you never are. That’s why the wife left, remember? She said she was going nuts waiting for you to pick your head up off the kitchen table and look at her. Never present. That’s what the webcams and hidden microphones are for though, the world wide web lets you be in ten different places at once.

You are the present. “Knock, knock!” It’s hard to keep your voice down, waiting in the corridor for the silly girl to answer.

When she does, you almost forget yourself. The yellow and purple get up she usually wears (great colours, by the way) have been discarded in favour of normal people clothes. She’s even wearing glasses, which is pretty funny considering what a killer shot she is with a batarang

She’s brilliant, this little bat thing, but she’s surplus. She can make best friends with a chloroform rag and be left to her own devices. The real prize for today is the old man. A couple of well-placed kicks to the head and he doesn’t make a peep all the way to the fairground.

You could have your little heart to hear in the house of mirrors, or at the top of the Ferris wheel. Choices, choices. There’s always the teacups but they’d take the best part of a week to bring back online and really, who has the time.

The commissioner lies asleep on the back seat while you ride shotgun, head stuck firmly out the window to make the car go faster. The glove compartment pops open and inside is a loaded gun. Imagine the mess if you’d taken that up to use against the little battling. Gross.

The baby-shaped oddities the carnies left behind are a bit much. Lying in the middle of the main circle in the Big Top, the commissioner comes to (with all his clothes on, no thanks to Jerry for suggesting that this might be better done otherwise) and shrieks in fear to find himself alone. “Where am I?”

“In my living room. Brought you down here for a little chat, Gordo.”

“What do you want from me?”

“Now, now. Enough with the true crime victim thing. I’ve had enough of you playing coy, it’s time you told me the truth.”

The commissioner looks terrified as you emerge out of the dark towards him. You would think you had a weapon on you, and to think you went to all that trouble to keep your look casual for this. Water drips in from where the damp has rotted clean through the canvas of the tent and Gordon tried to push himself away from you but you grab him right, pulling him in close and smiling wide. “Easy, I’ve just got the one question for you today.”

“I don’t know anything. I- Where’s my daughter?”

You wave the question aside. “Who gives a shit? Come on now, Gordon, give it to me straight. Do you think he likes me?”

The expression on Gordon’s face would make the funny pages as far off as Seattle.

He comes again, ploughing through the rain with a chip on his shoulder that you’ve been telling him to get buffed out for years. Spoiling for a fight you’re not going to give him, in case he starts up that ‘we’ll die in each others’ arms’ bullshit all over again.

“Heya, Bats!”

In the ill lit tent, he’s little more than a silhouette and and endless pit of boiling, black rage. If only you had a bouquet handy, you’d tuck a few flowers behind his ear spikes to lighten him up, then spend the remaining petals counting your chances. He loves me, he loves me not.

“Batman!” Gordon shrieks. “You have to…please…”

“What have you done to him?” The Bat growls.

Shrug. “Nothing! We’ve just been catching up, right Gordo? He never came by to see me back in Arkham so we had a lot of ground to cover.”

“He hasn’t stopped talking for hours.” Gordon mewls.

The Bat marches over, hand under your chin to hold you steady but the threat of choking implicit despite his oh so precious code. “What have you done to him?”

“Please, Bats. Don’t make me say it out loud! I’ll embarrass everyone.”

“He thinks you want to sleep with him!”

Never let it be said you don’t have range. Caught in a stone-cold choke hold and you still manage to throw Gordon a dirty look. “Tattletale.”

Beneath his cowl, the Bat frowns. “What?”

“Strictly speaking, that’s not true. I was merely speculating on the possibility of you asking me for coffee sometime.”

“He wouldn’t…he can’t…he didn’t stop talking.” Gordon just won’t let it go. That’s what conversation is, dummies! It’s just people talking, back and forth for all time.

The Bat doesn’t have the patience of the dear commissioner though, so he sends in the good boys in blue to clean up their commander in chief and drags you out into the rain himself.

“You wanna hear a joke?” You ask, watching the road for when the Arkham vans finally arrive. Hard to say if you actually want to go home or if you’ll spring yourself half way across the bridge out from Midtown.

“No.” He shakes his head. In the blue light of the cop cars all his edges come into focus, and it feels sinful to look upon his form so clearly defined. His eyes do look kinda blue.

You’ll have him on your side by the time the night is through. The rain is dancing a tango across your shoulders and soon enough even the Bat will be waterlogged enough to have to laugh some of that weight off.

**Author's Note:**

> I was asked to do a TKJ retelling that ironed out some of the over the top grimdark of the original. I confess, I do tend to enjoy grimdark, but I don't really rate The Killing Joke. 
> 
> This was originally posted on my [tumblr](https://jeffersonhairpie.tumblr.com/). You can also find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/chadfuture_)
> 
> Comments are love!


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